


Why Are You Yelling

by TheAini



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Complicated Relationships, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23099605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAini/pseuds/TheAini
Summary: The things left unsaid between Braham and the commander are still innumerable, but when a close encounter with a bramble wall in Kourna forces the two together for an evening, words get heated and touches turn soft. Temporarily.Written as a prompt request and set during Season 4, sometime during Tactical Triage.
Relationships: Braham Eirsson/Original Character(s), Braham Eirsson/Player Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Why Are You Yelling

“You know, the bramble walls are for defense, not taking a nap in.” The commander grips Braham’s bare arm with her fingertips, holding him still as she carefully removes yet another inch long thorn from his shoulder.

“I wasn’t - ” He hisses and shifts where he sits straddling a chair, his bare arms resting on the back and his coat pooling around his waist. He looks over his shoulder at the commander, flicks his eyes over her, “Isn’t there someone else who can do this? Someone less sassy.”

Lys tosses the thorn over to land in the nearby bowl with a soft plink. “Nope! All our medics are busy. You’re stuck with me.” She touches his cheek, forcing him to face forward again, “Now hush.”

Braham winces again, sucking air between his teeth as the commander extracts another wickedly barbed thorn from above his shoulder blade. “That hurts! You could be more gentle.”

“I am being gentle! These are sylvari work, they’re meant to be painful so people don’t _crawl_ around in them”

“Like I jumped into them on purpose.”

She resisted the urge to yank the next thorn out, instead of taking her time to work the jagged barbs out evenly. “No, you just chased an awakened patrol into the bramble wall. And then charged right after them like a bloodthirsty idiot.”

“You’re one to talk!” Braham holds his breath through the next sharp pain before continuing his tirade, “Every damn time I see you you’re in over your head.”

“Over my head?” She furrows her brow and wipes the trickle of blood from the freshly opened wound, “When was I in over my head?”

He scoffs and looks over his shoulder again, frowns at the look of concentration on the commander’s face, “Taimi tells me ‘we need your help’. I show up and you’re … sneaking around ALONE in Joko’s stronghold?”

“I … had Blish’s arm.” Again, she touches his jaw, turning him to face forward. Honestly, did he roll around in the brambles when he fell into them?

“She had Blish’s arm.” Braham does a mocking imitation just long enough for the commander to pull out the next thorn a little less gently. Why was she always so damned nonchalant about her recklessness. “Last time I checked you were _human_. But no, there you are on the front lines. With the scarabs. The Scarab Plague, Commander. Do you have a death wish?”

“I’m immune to the plague.” Plink went that thorn as it joined its friends in the bowl. “Because I’ve died ”

“Sure! Great. Just remind me of that fact casually.”

“I didn’t say it to remind you of anything!” Lys sputters, forgetting what she was doing for the moment. “The scarabs are no more of a threat to me than they are to you.”

“Yeah, and how do you know that for sure?” Braham looks over his shoulder, yet again. Lys was looking back at him, her hands still. “Because some dead ladies told you so?”

“Some … dead ladies?! Yes! Why would the queens lie to me?”

“Didn’t say lie. Just how can they know? How can bugs “smell” death on you? What does that even mean?” He’d half turned in the chair now, “You’re alive and you’re here now aren’t you? You should try harder to keep it that way.”

“I don’t even know what to say to you right now.” She tosses the bloodied cloth aside, puts her hands on her hips.

“How about,” He imitates her again, even more snide this time, “Braham, I humbly accept that I am not an actual god myself and I’ll stop acting like I’m undefeatable. For once.”

“Fine! I’ll gladly say that line of ridiculousness if you tell me exactly why you’re yelling at me right now!”

“I just did!” Braham stands suddenly, disregarding his half-clothed state and the pain of the thorns still waiting to be removed. He half kicks the chair out of his way as he faces the commander.

“You did not!” Lys steps forward to meet him, uncowed by the yelling norn looming over her, “You know damned well I’ve never considered myself a god. I know I’m mortal. Painfully so. I bloody DIED so out with it!”

“Fine! Yes! You died, Commander. You died and you wouldn’t have if I’d been there. But you did and I’m not going to fucking let it happen again.”

For once, Lys didn’t have a comeback. She just stopped and looked up at Braham, watched as the anger on his face cooled, as it was replaced by a creeping blush of embarrassment. She moved to retrieve the chair, set it down quietly in front of him and stepped back.

With an exasperated sigh, Braham sits back down, hugging the back of the chair and resting his chin on his arms. The commander still hadn’t said a word, he just felt her soft fingers on his back. Her gentle touch. For a while, the only sound in the room is that of thorns landing in the bowl. His occasional muffled hiss.

Finally, she speaks, her voice unnervingly quiet, "You couldn’t have saved me. Balthazar would have killed you too.”

“Yeah, well …” Unconsciously, his voice matches the sadness in hers, “At least I could have tried.”

There was a familiar swell of light behind him, as if the moon had just risen beyond the window. When the commander touches him again her hands are cool and they move over his back and his shoulders like liquid starlight, erasing even the memory of the pain he’d felt a moment ago. The light fades and her hands are warm again, but she doesn’t stop touching him as she asks, “And if you were dead, who would I have to yell at?”

Braham hears her, but yet he doesn’t. She’s moved her hands up to rest on his shoulders, and his eyes slip closed as the commander begins to run her thumbs lightly up the back of his neck. She feels him relax under her touch, the slow sigh that escapes him compelling her to continue. Her fingertips brush the soft spot above his collarbone, her thumbs kneading into the knot of tension at the base of his neck.

He lets his head fall forward and the commander’s hands slide down over his skin, her fingers tracing the line of his collarbone as she continues to work her thumbs up the back of his neck. He can feel his muscles loosening, the ever-present tension drifting away with a shiver of sparks. It feels good to be touched like this. To be touched by her. Her hair brushes the side of his face as she leans over him and he realizes just how close she is. It’s overwhelming, her touch and her nearness and he moans suddenly, low and slow.

The sound of Braham’s moan brings Lys sharply back to reality, as her heart threatens to claw its way out of her chest. Momentarily she was drunk on his warmth, entranced by the sensation of him growing ever more pliant under her touch. She forgot for a moment, most of everything. They both freeze and then Lys takes a step backward, dropping her hands pointedly to her sides as she turns around. Away from him. What in the gods was she thinking just now?

Braham’s been plenty embarrassed in his life, but this one is up there. He quickly pulls his coat back up over his arms, shakes out the collar as he stands back up. He doesn’t dare look at the commander. He feels like he should apologize, make an excuse but … he must be crazy, but he thinks he can hear her breathing more quickly than usual. Without a word, he saves them both the embarrassment and the explanations and walks out the door.


End file.
